My Love
by MyWhiteDecember
Summary: Draco and Harry share one night of passion before the final battle. Three months later, Draco realises he loves Harry, but is it too late? Character Death sort of . Not one-shot. HPDM. Rated M.
1. Default Chapter

**Author:** Cyber Angel  
**Rated:** M  
**Pairing:** Harry / Draco  
**Chapters:** 1?  
**Genre:** Romance/Angst  
**Warning:** SLASH, Character death, SLASH. Slash is guy-guy relationships, so if you don't like that kinda stuff, I recommend you go back to wherever you came from.  
**Story:** My Love 

**Summary:** Harry and Draco have one single night of passion before the battle. Three months later, Draco realises that he loves Harry. But will the realisation strike him too late? Character death.

**A/N:** Well, folks, this is my second fic, and I know I should complete the first one, but this idea just popped up in my head, and I just had to write it. Anyways, I hope you like it. **And beware**, there's character death in here. **And** I'm not sure if the contents in this chap is too high forM rating. I have a sneaking suspicion it is, so if it is too high, please tell me, so that I can post the extreme slashy parts somewhere else. Love it if you could recommend a site to post that stuff as well. **Dominant** Draco and **Submissive** Harry. Anyways, enough of my ramblings. Enjoy!

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Life is unfair; I can tell you that. Here I am, giving up my Malfoy fortune and everything else to spy for the Light side. I'm in my private quarters at the moment; Dumbledore thought it was necessary I have my privacy now. Sitting here on the couch in front of the raging fire sipping Firewhiskey that Blaise another spy for the Light somehow managed to get a hold on, I wonder what could possibly have detered me from following in my father's footsteps.

I hear a light knock on my double oak doors and I get up to answer it. I pull open the doors, fully expecting to see Blaise, and have hot steamy sex with him like I always do, to brighten up this fucked up day. But what greets me iss the small frame of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. At the beginning of this year Sixth Year I alerted Dumbledore to my willingness to work for the Light, and he had made Potter reconcile with me. Potter was of course suspicious at first, but after awhile he warmed up to me. Though we are friends by no means, he always comes to me, instead of going to Weasel and Mudblood, when there is something on his mind. I sometimes wonder why that is, but I am secretly grateful I have someone to talk to aside from Blaise.

Coming back to the present; I move aside to let Potter in, after offering him a small almost-a-smile. He returns my smile warily and enters. I noticed how he looked tired and worn out today. Like he couldn't give a damn about anything or anyone anymore. I know he has been training ever-since the beginning of term for every waking hour of the day, and even skipped some less-important classes like Divination to train. Sometimes I feel sorry for him, but those times are few and far between as I occupy my free time with feeling sorry for myself. Yeah, call me vain.

I close the doors and turn to Potter who is standing awkwardly on the threshold. For a sixteen year old, Potter is extremely small. He is the shortest in our year; even shorter than most girls and even some fourth years. He only comes up to an inch or two below my shoulders. It's kind of hard to imagine that such a small creature is the savior of both the Wizarding World and the Muggle World.

Potter's messy black hair was still there, though a tiny bit tamer and covers his ears and reaches the base of his neck in a - as the girls say - adorable baby way. His emerald eyes are still the bright green they were, though slightly lacking the glow that used to be there. His skin was a beautiful honey tan that got the majority of the Hogwarts population drooling over him. And full red lips and long dark lashes only served to make him tie up with me as the most edible bachelor at Hogwarts. All in all as the girls say and some boys as well (including straight but Hufflepuff-ish ones) Potter looked like an adorable little baby angel fallen to Earth from the Heavens up above.

I gesture for Potter to sit and I follow him to sit in the couch by the fire while he takes an over-stuffed chair adjacent to the couch. He takes the offered Firewhiskey and we sit in silence, staring at the fire licking at the grate and enjoying the comfortable calmness that takes over us. Until Potter spoke.

"Dumbledore said that Voldermort is getting way out of hand. He's burning both muggle and wizard villages to the ground. He's strong now, having gathered all the forces that he needs. If we wait any longer like this, we won't be able to stop him...", a hesitant pause makes a chill travel down my spine for some unknown reason. "...We're going to war tomorrow night."

As those words leave those full red lips, the shiver that had been running down my spine stops, and a feeling of numbness settles over me. We're going to war? Tomorrow? The concept seemed inconceivable somehow. It seemed like only yesterday that The Dark Lord came back to power. Not knowing what to say in answer to Potter, I keep silent, staring intently at the fire, immersed in thought. We stay like that for some time, letting thoughts cross our minds like tornadoes crossing each others paths.

I am brought out of my reverie when I hear a tapping sound at the window in my bedroom. I get up from the couch and walk into my bedroom, opening the window and letting the owl in. After untying the letter from the owl's leg, I read it before setting it down on the bedside table. I turn around to go back to the living area, only to find Potter standing by the door to my room, looking nervous and fidgety.

"It's from Dumbledore", I say. "Basically what you just told me."

Potter just nods absently, still looking edgy and decidedly shy if the blush on his smooth cheeks were anything to go by.

Suddenly I have the very crazy but persistent urge to go to him and kiss those succulent red lips of his. I try to shake the feeling off, but it keeps clinging at my mind and heart, and before I even know it, I'm walking slowly towards him. He sees me coming, and I must be looking somewhat predatory and seductive, as his blush grows stronger and he starts scuffing his shoe against the floor.

Despite being the savior of the whole world and supposedly experienced, he was the most inexperienced, naive, and innocent sixteen year old I have ever known. He's even more innocent than most thirteen year olds. He must be the only virgin in our year well maybe except for the Weasel, but that's because no one wants to do anything irreversible with him. If the rumours were true, and I'm sure they are, Potter has only had one kiss that cannot even be classified as such. He doesn't even swear.

Now I'm directly in front of him, looking down at him with desire as I see his delicious lips part slightly as he looks up at me with cheeks bright crimson. When a pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, I can't take it anymore and I lower my head to his lips.

I stop right in front of the red lips that are shivering slightly, and smile inwardly at the shiver that runs through him due to my close proximity, my breath blowing hotly on his lips. What do you know; I seem to have an obssession with his lips! I close the distance between us, and press my lips gently on his. I can feel his red lips quivering beneath mine, and I press harder, bringing my hands up to cup his soft cheeks. My tongue snakes out and slowly outlines his bottom lip, and as he gasps, I thrust it inside his hot mouth. I can feel him shiver against my body as I explore his wet mouth. My tongue surrounded by the slick velvety heat makes me think of another part of my body that can be inside his mouth, or better yet, inside another part of his body.

Potter just stands there trembling and lets me plunder his mouth hungrily. His submissiveness turns me on, and I press my hardening cock against him, eliciting a muffled moan from him. Only then do I realise that Potter has a raging hard-on. I pull out of the kiss and stare at the bulge in his pants before looking at his blushing face, smirking.

I look at his clothed cock again before lowering my hand from the side of his face and cupping his erection, squeezing slightly. When Potter throws his head back and moans loudly, my cock decides to get rock hard. I move my hand slowly over his cock, rubbing it with agonising slowness and intensity. More moans from Potter and I lose whatever little control I had over my actions. I half carry, half drag Potter to my king sized bed and dump him unceremoniously on to the bouncy matress.

I could see the lust and nervous excitement in Potter's eyes as I crawl on top of him with a predatory glint in my own eyes. I lower myself onto his body, hissing with pleasure at the pleasant tingle that ran through me at the friction of our cocks rubbing together. I start kissing him again, more urgently and aggresively this time, letting my hands roam freely over his body, making him moan and shake with pleasure. My lips move to his tan neck where I suck, lick and bite his soft skin, marking him as mine.

My fingers slowly unbotton his shirt and toss it to the side, my eyes drinking in his honey coloured body hungrily. I make a path down his chest with my lips, paying special attention to his pink nipples when I reach them. My tongue swirls around one nipple while my hand pinches the other until both become hard pink buds. I move on south, and when I reach his navel, I dip my tongue in and out of it a couple of times, revelling in the moans I succeed in drawing forth from Potter's lips all through my ministrations.

I remove his pants and boxers, sliding them over his hips and legs in agonisingly slow movements, making Potter whimper and buck up into my hands. I take in the sight of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived sprawled out wantonly over my bed, naked, sweaty and panting, and I feel like I'm going to explode with all the sexual tension building inside of me.

I hurriedly get rid of my clothes before pulling him up into a sitting position with his legs spread out on either side of my kneeling figure, and his mouth near my throbbing cock.

"Use anything but teeth", is all I whisper huskily as instructions he's obviously never given head before as I push his head towards my penis.

I hiss in pleasure as his hot mouth engulfs me whole, his slick tongue licking the underside of my erection like his life depended on it. At first he is clumsy and accidently scrapes his teeth on my length, making me wince slightly, but soon he has the hang of it. Now he's sucking my penis hard and lapping at it with his wet tongue. I'm surprised at how good he's at giving head since this is his first time.

I moan in pleasure as his red lips stretched over my large cock rub against me. The feel of his tongue, lips, the sucking, the lapping, and the hot saliva that surrounds my cock in some kind of hot, steamy fantasy is getting too much to handle. My hands grip the hair at the back of his head and moves his head over my length a couple more times before pulling it all the way away from my cock till his lips release me with a slick pop sound.

I tilt his head back and gives him a long hard kiss before turning him around to rest on the bed on his hands and knees. I pull his arse up higher towards me and rubs my hands over his tight buttocks, squeezing them. I lower my head and my tongue darts out to trace the cleave of his arse. My hands part his arse cheeks as far as they would go, before my tongue once again flicks out, this time to trace around his opening. I can hear his loud moans, and I'm sure anyone outside my doors can hear them too, but I couldn't care less at the moment.

I play with his hole using both my tongue and my fingers for some time. Then I reach forward and around to Po - Harry's mouth, pushing my fingers into his mouth, and he happily licks and sucks away at them. Once my fingers are slicked up, I slowly insert them one by one into his entrance, stretching him out and listening to him moaning and whimpering, pushing up into my hands.

When my fingers hit his prostate, Harry stiffens and jerks, arching his back and moaning loudly. His body is slippery with sweat, and his steamy panting almost drives me to slam hard into him then and there, without a care that this is the first time he's having sex.

I remove my fingers from his arse and position myself at his entrance.

"This is going to hurt a bit", I whisper huskily, leaning over his back.

Slowly, I enter him, trying my best to minimise the pain. I can hear Harry hiss in pain, and I pause for just a moment before continuing. Now my cock is fully inside his arse, his hot velvety heat swallowing me into a hazy, steamy fantasy world. I start moving slowly at first, and when he starts to move in sync with me, I speed up my thrusting.

Soon I'm slamming hard into him, pounding his prostate and having him bucking back into me, screaming my name over and over and just screaming in general. I revel in the feeling of fucking Potter into the matress. One of my hands is holding onto his hip, and the other hand is gripping his penis, pumping it in rapid motions.

Harry comes first, beginning with a series of 'OhGodOhGodOhGod' and ending in a scream of 'Draco!', spilling over my hand and the black silk bed covers. As I feel his muscles clench around my penis, I'm thrown over the edge as well. I rock against him a couple of times to drive out the last drop of cum, before collapsing on his back, completely spent.

Potter lay on the bed panting hard as I pull out of him and roll off his back onto the bed beside him. He lays still like that before turning his head to look at me, blush on full force. I lean over and kiss him softly on his kiss-swollen lips. Then I pull him into my arms, and we stay like that; his head on my chest and my arms around him, his fingers drawing unseen patterns on my chest.

We didn't talk at all; it somehow seemed wrong to speak now. We lie in silence until Potter lifts his head from my chest. The only thing he says is that he needs to get back to Gryffindor Tower; it's getting late. And all I do is nod. I watch him as he gets out of my bed and starts dressing with a blush on his face due to my staring. Soon though, he's gone, closing the double oak doors tightly behind him.

All that remains of his prescence in my rooms tonight is the empty glass of Firewhiskey, the disturbed bedsheets he left behind, his ejaculatory fluids still on the bed, and the lingering smell of vanilla and jasmine; his own unique smell.

* * *

The atmospere was tense. There were dead bodies everywhere; some of Aurors I didn't know, and some I have seen in passing. The remaining Death Eaters are been given the Kiss in the far corner of the battlefield. I can see my father among them, but I don't give a damn. The sobbing, screaming and silent pain of the wounded and lonely is driving me crazy. I wish I could be somewhere - anywhere - away from this picture of pain and suffering painted on canvas brought to life. I feel like I'm about to explode. It feels like a million knives are digging into me, twisting and chopping my insides into billions of tiny bloody, fleshy chunks. And yet, I feel nothing at all; I'm numb from everything that happened here for three whole days, and four nights. There's an odd ringing in my ears. It hurts so much. My heart hurts. Where is he? 

I let my eyes sweep over the blood stained battlefield, looking for him. But I can't find him anywhere. Panic rises within me. I haven't seen him after that night of steamy passion we shared. There's something I want to know, something I want to ask him. But I can't find him dammit! I don't know how much time has passed since I started looking for him. Maybe seconds, maybe hours, maybe a lifetime has passed and I didn't notice, who knows?

I start to feel desperate. I have looked all over for him. So where can he be? I see all the familiar faces, but not his childish face. I can see Severus, Blaise, Finnigan, Thomas, a couple of Weaselys, Longbottom and some others I can't be bothered to put a name to, scattered all over the place in little groups or all alone.

I let my gaze wander over the grounds one last time, and spots... Weasel, Mudblood, Dumbledore, and McGonogall in a little circle. Severus and friends of Potter are walking towards them as well. My heart begins to beat rapidly, thudding hard against my ribcage as I walk nearer and nearer to the increasing crowd surrounding something. I could hear shocked gasps coming from some of them. Soon I am able to see most of them crying or too shocked to do anything. Even Dumbledore has little streams of tears running down to his long white beard. Wow, this's going to be bad.

As I came within ten feet of the crowd, I felt my heart stop; my legs sure did stop, and I halted dead in my tracks, not daring to breathe. A small figure of a boy with messy black hair through which a lightning bolt shaped scar could be clearly seen, lay on the ground in the middle of the group, and though his eyes are closed, I know that the colour of the eyes behind the lids are a brilliant emerald green. The young boy was not moving, not breathing, and his heart was not beating.

* * *

Far, far away, the sounds of a new-born baby echoed through the hospital emergency room. The mother almost miscarried, and the baby was much too tiny to be deemed healthy. 

The little baby boy was louder than any other that had been delivered with the supervision of Dr. Windson, and she felt her heart warm at the sight of the tiny creature. She was sure anyone who set eyes on the baby will love him immediately.

The tiny baby had messy jet black hair, big, innocent, bright emerald green eyes, slightly tanned skin, full red lips, cute round face, and a slight disfiguration of skin could be seen clearly on his forehead.

Once the mother had rested, the baby was brought to her and her husband. They were ecstastic when they saw him, though he looked nothing at all like them. They looked at him lovingly while they pondered a name, and finally came up with Harry.

The name suited him; simple, soft, delicate, and beautiful, just like him.

Harry. Harry Potter... Beautiful.

* * *

It has been just over three months since the death of our Savior, The Boy Who Vanquished The Dark Lord, Harry Potter, the last one to have sex with me. 

There is something in my heart. Something that has been haunting me. Something that started to take shape and form into something bigger when I first saw him in Madam Malkins. Something that I've kept hidden away from myself and everyone else. This something accuses me of denying it, of keeping it locked away, and it plagues my dreams with images of a beautiful boy at night. It sings in my heart when I allow it even one second of freedom from its cell, to enter my heart and burry itself in the depths of it.

I've tried denying it. But now I see that there's no point. There's nothing I can do now anyways. It doesn't matter anymore what my heart says, because it's much too late.

I love Harry Potter.

There. I've said it, admitted it for the first time. It's too late to realise it though. It's too late.

There was that one night of passion we shared. I must say that it's the most wonderful night of my life, even if I didn't realise it then. I guess Harry will never know exactly how I feel about him.

And I will never know how he feels about me either. I will never know if he meant it to happen that night, or if it was the Firewhiskey (maybe he has a low alcohol tolerance) and the lonliness and the prospect of going to war the next night that made him sleep with me. I will never know.

I'll never know if he loves me too.

...TBC...

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**A/N:**Well, hope you liked it. And let me stress that this is **NOT** a one-shot... unless of course you want it to be one. Tell me if I should just leave this as it is or if I should continue. I have an idea of where this will go if it turns out you want it to continue, but not exactly a plot. Anyways, this was inspired by Moulin Rouge: Echoes From The Past. I don't remember who wrote it, so if you guys know, please tell me. And if you haven't read the fic, you should, it's simply amazing!  
By the way, I can't review any story. Anyone knows why? When I click on the 'Go' button, my computer freezes for like two minutes, and then nothing happens. Could you please enlighten me as to why that's happening? I'd appreciate it a lot.  
**In case you were wondering**, the baby's surname is Potter, and since his parents named him Harry, his full name is Harry Potter wink wink nudge nudgeKnow where this' going?  
Also, I was wondering what happened to this fic called 'Chandra' by someone, and I forgot their name as well. I have short term memory loss... or maybe memory loss in general...haha. Anyways, just wondering if you guys know where it is now, cuz one minute I was reading it, and the next minute it was gone. Oh, and I would appreciate it if you could tell me the author's name as well. Gods I'm asking a lot, aren't I? hehe:P  
Also, there was this fic called 'Haven' by someone whose name I've forgotten as well. It was posted last year I think, and then it just disappeared. Love it if you could give me any info on that.  
Ok, so this thing is getting really ridiculously long, and I doubt anyone has read up till this part, so I'm gonna say goodbye.

Please review!  
Cya

Love,  
Cyber Angel


	2. The Letter

HTML BODY

My Love 

bAuthor:/b MyWhiteDecember bRated:/b M bPairing:/b Draco/Harry (Bottom!Harry)  
bChapters:/b 2?  
bGenre:/b Romance/Angst bWarning:/b No warnings for this chapter bDisclaimer:/b Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. Boohoo.  
bSummary:/b Harry and Draco have one single night of passion before the battle. Three months later, Draco realises that he loves Harry. But will the realisation strike him too late? Character death. Reborn!Harry.

A/N: Heheh. Been long, eh? I've no excuse except that I'm too f-ing lazy. Well, I did the second chapter. Yay me!! You'll notice that the Reborn!Harry is very childish for a 11 yr old... I just like sweet little Harry. I finished writing the chapter and was reading it again and I'm like 'Damn! Is Harry supposed to be 5 or 11??' So yeah... R&R!!!

The neighbourhood lay quite and peaceful; the birds were singing, the leaves were rustling, and the children were playing outside on their lawns. The Potters had just moved to Privet Drive last year - into the newly vacated house with the brass number 4 on the front door - and they were quite happy. The married couple's first and also the last child - a beautiful boy child - was playing outside by himself.

The boy, Harry, was really very beautiful. He had soft, ruffled hair the colour of the deepest darkest abyss, and eyes as green as envy. His skin was pale like a corpse's (although it looked much more healthy owing to the flushes of pink that were always present in his cheeks), but his lips were a lively berry red. He also had a tiny faded scar on his forehead the shape of a lightning bolt since birth - and that was the only blemish on his soft smooth skin. He was quite small for his age and was full of the childish innocence that most children had already started to lose by his age.

Even though he was an unusually beautiful child, he lived an ordinary life. He went to an ordinary school, had ordinary friends, got ordinary grades, had ordinary parents, and did ordinary things - until the day he got a letter; by owl.

-----

Almost eleven years after his birth, Harry Potter was sitting at the small kitchen table, swinging his little legs back and forth as his parents read the letter that a big bird had dropped on their doorstep. The letter was written on funny yellowy paper and the words were a dark green colour and Harry could not read them because all the letters were stuck together with lines so that they looked more like a design than words.

His daddy read the letter first, and raised one of his bushy eyebrows like how he does when Harry makes silly excuses for not cleaning his room. He passed the letter to his mommy, and she looked at daddy with a strange look in her eyes after reading the letter, then turned to look at Harry who was still swinging his legs back and forth. His daddy got up and followed his mommy when she told him that she wanted to talk privately. 

Harry sat there with his legs swinging and his little hands clasped together on the tabletop.

-----

Lisa Potter was stunned that her son had been accepted to Hogwarts; no one from her family had been magical enough to be accepted to the school in a long while. She herself was a squib from a long line of squibs. Same goes for her husband. Now their little boy has been accepted to the most prestigious magic school in England.

She could barely contain her happiness. However, her husband seemed to think that it was some joke. He himself had received a prank letter accepting him to Hogwarts, and therefore Joseph was sceptical.

"Darling," said Lisa with patience, "this letter has the seal of Hogwarts as well as Albus Dumbledore's signature. There is no way anyone could forge that."

"They might be able to if they could do magic, and who's to say that seals and signatures can't be forged with magic?" asked Joseph.

"Seals and signatures can be forged without the help of magic as well-"

"Exactly!" interrupted the man. "If they could be done without magic, they could definitely be done with magic!"

"Well, there's a simple way to find out. We could check the magical signature of the person who wrote the letter."

"And how do you propose we do that? We can't do magic if you haven't noticed."

"We could send a letter to Dumbledore and ask for confirmation that he sent the letter," honestly, Lisa was getting tired of her husband's cynical, sarcastic ways. But she wasn't about to tell him that since the man would probably get even more sarcastic just to piss her off.

"Alright. Let's do that. Right now. But where do we get the owl from?"

"Diagon Alley."

-----

When Lisa and Joseph entered the kitchen to tell Harry that they were going out for a while, they found him standing on a chair he had dragged over to the counter. The shelf above the counter was open and a jar of strawberry jam was clutched tighty in Harry's little fist.

Lisa smiled as Harry's lovely face turned towards them guiltily, strawberry jam smeared around his lips and on his cheeks.

"You little monster," said Lisa adoringly. "C'mon, get ready to go stay with Mrs. Jane while yor daddy and I go out for a while."

Harry jumped into Lisa outstretched arms and let her carry him to the bathroom, leaving Joseph to put the top back on the jam jar and place it back in the shelf.

-----

Lisa and Joseph Potter could see the Leaky Cauldron since they were not complete muggles. However, they could not oopen the wall beyond which Diagon Alley lay, so they got Tom, the bar keeper to open it and get them an owl. The man came back with a gorgeous snow white owl that Lisa knew Harry would love.

On the way back home, they picked Harry up from their neighbour, Mrs. Jane, and as Lisa had thought Harry immediately started cooing and petting the owl through the cage.

Once they got home, Lisa and Joseph had written a letter to Dumbledore and sent it with the owl, after reassuring a teary-eyed Harry that the bird would come back.

It wasn't till later that night that they got a reply affirming Harry's acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Lisa was ecstastic, and even Joseph was happy if still a little sceptic. Harry was asleep so he didn't know the great news yet as they hadn't told him about the letter he had received so he didn't get his hopes up.

However, Lisa was also a little worried; Harry was quite childish and innocent for an eleven year old and was gullible to any older student, plus Harry had never been away from his parents for longer than a day so she was worried how he would stay practically an entire year at Hogwarts. She also worried that her son would be pushed around and wouldn't really have any friends since he was gentle and sweet while boys his age were rough and running around everywhere.

She sighed and told herself to let go of her fears; Harry had to learn to be alone and be a man someday and now was a good time to start. Plus, she didn't want to ruin Harry's chance at Hogwarts with her worrying. She was so happy that Harry had been given a chance that she had yearned for and would have done anything a young eleven year old mind could think of to get in.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office and stroking his long white beard, deep in thought. He stared out at the quidditch pitch, remembering the first game that Harry Potter played, and how he had practically swallowed the snitch by accident. Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile at the memory.

Then he sobered again, thinking of how to break it to Draco Malfoy that Harry Potter was coming back to Hogwarts. He wondered whether to tell the young Defence Agains the Dark Arts teacher that the boy is the same Harry Potter that he used to know and secretly love, expect he was now eleven years old, and couldn't remember Draco let alone anyone else.

Life had not been the same since Harry had died in the final battle. Dumbledore had never mourned the death of anyone as strongly as he did Harry's; the boy was like a grandson to him.

Dumbledore sighed wearily, closing his eyes at the pain that pierced through him at the memories. He turned to look at Fawkes as the bird sat on his perch and stared at Dumbledore with his watery black eyes.

"What do you think of our new students? Especially one Harry Potter?" asked Dumbledore as he held his arm out for the bird.

Fawkes trilled and flew over to the man. He tilted his head and sang softly, the same sad, lovely tune he had sung at Harry's funeral. Dumbledore knew that song was just for Harry since Fawkes had never sung that tune before and never does until Harry's name is mentioned. The man knew the bird had adored Harry as he had been unusually quiet and still after the boy's death.

Dumbledore stroked Fawkes' head and decided to let Draco Malfoy know that the love of his life has come back at the staff meeting right before the Welcome Feast. The man's eyes twinkled as he pondered the new turn of events. Finally the days were going to be interesting. Dumbledore wondered whether this Harry would be as adventerous as the last Harry; would he attract as much trouble? Would he and Severus still fight? Would he be as courageous? Would he be as kind? Well, there were seven years ahead to answer those questions. Finally the monotonous drone the days had become would be brightened again. Dumbledore just knew it; the little boy was going to lighten the hearts of many.

Well, there's the 2nd chapter of the story I started couple of year ago!! yay!! Please review and tell me what you think.

MWD

PS: I don't think you'd really care but Tokio Hotel ROX!!! YEAH!! I love Durch Den Monsun!! 


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